


And Twice On Sundays

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Situational Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry catches Draco in the act and makes him finish what he started. This was written for the hp_kinkfest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Twice On Sundays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Draco stopped what he was doing with a gasp when he saw Harry in the doorway. His hands flew away from his cock like it was on fire, to flutter uselessly around his chest. He began to sit up, his flush of arousal becoming an embarrassed blush.

Harry saw that blush, felt his cock start to harden at the sight of a naked, flustered Draco, and made a decision.

“No no,” Harry said. He pushed off from the doorway where he’d been leaning and strolled into the bedroom. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Harry, I didn’t - I - ” Draco sat up fully, curling his legs up as if that would somehow hide his erection. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be back yet. It’s not - I don’t do it a lot - ” He was still hard, and Harry stared at Draco’s cock, making it obvious. Making it impossible for Draco to pretend he hadn’t been touching himself.

Harry didn’t care. He wanked every day, and he’d thought Draco wanked every day: it wasn’t a problem or all that much to do with him, to Harry’s mind. As long as Draco wasn’t choosing that over sex with Harry then what did it matter?

But Draco pink-cheeked and apologising, too flustered to finish a sentence, aroused and so embarrassed by it -

Harry fucking loved it, and this kind of opportunity didn’t come along very often. So he raised an eyebrow and said mildly, “it’s fine. But really, you should finish what you started.”

“What - ?”

“Come on, Draco. I like boys who get it done.” It was a calculated word: _boys_ not _men_. At moments like these, Draco was always his boy.

Harry knew this particular mild tone, combined with a voice deepened by arousal, would let Draco know exactly what kind of mood he was in. “So get your hands back on your cock. You were certainly tugging at it desperately enough a minute ago.”

Draco flushed immediately: not the usual spots of pink, but a red that made it look like he’d been slapped. Harry’s cock hardened further, pushing against the placket of his trousers. He put his hands on his hips to stop himself touching it; he had to remain in control. Instead Harry prowled closer, in supervisorial fashion. Draco was biting his lip, gently tugging at himself with his eyes fixed on Harry’s face, as if waiting to be told he was doing something wrong.

Harry met his eyes and Draco dropped his. Harry wasn’t going to let him hide like that; he wanted Draco aware, every second, that he was being watched.

“Not putting much effort into it, are you? Are you worried I’ll see what you’re really like? Newsflash, Draco.” Harry walked next to the bed and leaned over, his mouth close to Draco’s ear, his hands in his trouser pockets. “I already know what a slut you are.”

Draco’s eyes closed for a moment. He was biting his lip, as if trying to hold in the sounds. His breathing was coming in shallow puffs. Harry watched, arousal squirming in his stomach at the sight. Draco’s eyelids were at half-mast as if he couldn’t decide whether he was able to look at Harry or not.

Harry wanted to kiss him. But he waited instead, his gaze heavy on the movement of Draco’s pale hands, the way his toes kinked when he twisted his hand over his cock -

A moan forced its way past Draco’s mouth. “There you go, there it is,” Harry cooed.

Draco turned to look at him in a flutter of pale lashes, wide-eyed, his hands flying away from his cock.

“It’s okay,” Harry told him. “It’s important to fulfil your needs.”

Draco didn’t look away from Harry, but he was stroking himself again automatically.

“See - you just can’t help yourself.”

Draco’s whole body curled in - his head dipping, his shoulders hunching, his thighs pressing in. Mortified.

Harry’s mouth watered.

He worried sometimes that he loved this so much. Draco had always wanted so much to be a smooth ice-prince, and he’d never managed it, not around Harry. But his humiliation back then had never given Harry this sour-sweet twist of pleasure in his belly.

But Draco’s gaze came up again, and his pupils were wide, black swallowing the pale grey. He was biting his lip again, working himself, and moaning. The sound alone - and the slick noises of Draco’s hand against his cock -

“That’s better. Enjoy it, Draco. I wouldn’t have got with such a slut if I’d expected someone who kept their hands to themselves.” Harry wondered if that flush was painful. “I know what you’re like. It’s never enough for you, you’re just so desperate to get fucked.”

Draco’s safeword wasn’t coming; instead his eyes were unable to stay open from the bliss.

“Are you going to leave your poor nipples all neglected? You always like it so much when I tug on them.”

Both of Draco’s obedient hands moved up to pinch and squeeze his nipples, his hips thrusting into air as he reddened both little nubs. Harry rubbed his own cock, unable to hold back any more. His voice was a little rough as he kept talking, stage-managing Draco, making him into Harry’s own little show.

Draco slid one hand down to his tender inner thighs. He didn’t reach for his balls, just spread his thighs further and stroked at that pale skin.

Harry watched, cataloguing hints: _ah, he likes that spot._ “Pinch yourself, Draco. No - on your thigh, there. Go on.”

Draco gave him a half-angry, half-imploring look: he hated it when Harry pinched his inner thighs. Harry’s returning look was stern, but he didn’t expect the immediate obedience: Draco gave himself a vicious pinch, squealing and flinching and reddening the skin. Harry gave him a wide smile.

Draco let go, taking the smile for the signal it was, his shoulders heaving. “Touch your cock, then,” Harry said with a trace of amusement. “I didn’t say you couldn’t, you know.”

“I know, but I - I wanted - ”

“You’re pretty sweet when you’re being a good boy, did you know? Even if you are a slut.”

Draco was rubbing himself, his hips thrusting helplessly. Harry drew his wand and gave it a flick. A tub of lube flew from the bedside table and landed by Draco’s hip, followed by Harry’s favourite of the toys from the bottom drawer: a dildo, large and a humiliating shade of fuchsia.

Draco’s eyes popped open and he gave a long, dragged-out gasp.

“Come on, do it properly,” Harry told him.

Draco nodded three times, little bobs of the head as he fumbled open the lube. His fingers dipped into the slick and then he was reaching down, awkward, and holding himself open. Harry leaned forward without meaning to, ravenous for the sight of Draco’s little hole clinging to his fingers. Harry’s stroking of his own cock through his trousers was sweet relief as he drank in the sight of his flustered Draco so desperate for touch.

“Remember not to come yet. Keep teasing yourself; it’ll be better when you come that way.” Harry kept his voice even with an effort. The effort was rewarded: Draco pushed his fingers inside, the effect of Harry’s patronising instruction evident.

Draco groaned as he worked himself open. He was desperate: he grabbed the dildo too soon.

“Already? Well, of course.”

Draco pushed the vibrator inside. He was grimacing, lust and strain clear on his face, his hole stretching around the size of it. “Good boy. Keep going,” Harry coaxed. “Just a little more and then you’ll have it all inside you, and won’t that be nice? I know it’s what you want.”

“It is,” Draco choked out, his forehead creased from the strain and slick with sweat. “I want it.”

“All of it. It’s good to know yourself, Draco, know how slutty you are. You don’t need to hide how much you need to touch yourself.”

The dildo slid in to the base. Harry waited until Draco’s eyes were closed and he was wanking himself again, his hand a blur: he’d finish himself soon. His hole was visibly clenching and releasing against the dildo.

Harry leaned over and tapped the dildo’s base with his wand.

The dildo started moving by itself and Draco _shrieked_. Harry gave a half-breathless laugh, his cock throbbing as he watched the dildo move in and out, thrusting entirely outside of Draco’s control.

“Come on,” said Harry. “Sluts like you need to be fucked, don’t they? Even if it’s just plastic. You’re so fucking desperate, clenching round that plastic cos you just can’t wait for me to do it properly - ” Draco was wailing now, unable to control the pace of the dildo fucking him or his own hand on his cock, defenceless against the onslaught. Harry fumbled his trousers and boxers open, beyond caring about looking like he was in control when Draco’s thighs were clenching and his toes were curling and he was crying out, a breathless little sound escaping him with each thrust of the dildo as Harry’s magic and Harry’s words and Draco’s own helpless hands forced him on -

Draco came all over himself with a long, shuddering cry. Harry stared, unabashed, taking in every moment, every quiver, every sound. After a moment Draco managed to peek at Harry, and Harry stared back, unabashed. Entranced.

Draco was still wracked by aftershocks. He was just as wrecked as Harry wanted him to be when Harry said, “Draco, d’you think you’re the only one with needs? Don’t be selfish.”

Draco raised his head, and Harry gestured: he had his trousers open, his reddened cock exposed. Draco got himself up without another word, crawling across the bed on all fours. Fuck, did he have any idea what he was doing to Harry? That gorgeous, messy orgasm, and now -

Near-dizzy with arousal, Harry threaded his fingers into the soft hair at the back of Draco’s head and drew him forward. Draco moved easily, opening his reddened mouth and Harry pushed inside, desperate for the lush heat of Draco’s body. Draco sucked fervently, eyes dropping closed; Harry watched his face, as he had all through this. He watched Draco’s swollen lips around his cock, his flush, his transported face like when he’d come -

Harry didn’t last long. He fed his cock into Draco’s mouth, and Draco sucked. With his hands holding himself up on the bed he couldn’t have stopped Harry from choking him with cock. But Harry didn’t need too: the realisation of that trust was enough and he came, Draco swallowing around him, moaning around him. Harry’s orgasm seemed to last forever.

When he opened his eyes again Draco was sitting back on the bed, making the same funny little face he usually made when he swallowed Harry’s come. Harry grinned at him, but couldn’t resist embarrassing him a little more. “Come on, I know you. It’s been days since you sucked my cock; weren’t you craving the taste of come?”

Draco gave him a half-shy approximation of the usual smirk, then rubbed at his face with the back of his hand. “Yes,” he said, breathless and half-stuttered.

Harry kissed him slow and dirty, with an affectionate hand on Draco’s cheek. He could feel the warmth of Draco’s blush against his fingertips.

The talk about it being okay to touch himself could come later. Maybe after Harry had taken some photos.


End file.
